


Code of Ethics

by sapphose



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Episode: s02e06 Melora, Episode: s07e05 Chrysalis, Fix-It, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:14:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25668793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphose/pseuds/sapphose
Summary: A visitor arrives from Starfleet Medical to talk to Julian about his habit of romancing patients.
Relationships: Julian Bashir & Katherine Pulaski
Comments: 25
Kudos: 31





	Code of Ethics

**Author's Note:**

> Who else felt uncomfortable about Julian's lack of professional boundaries? Surely they have rules about that. This is a brief imagining of the kind of conversation that someone should have had with him.

The look that Sisko gives Julian as he enters Ops immediately sets him on edge. Sisko does not give up his office readily.

When Julian enters, an older human woman with short, curly hair is in Sisko’s seat, and looks him up and down.

“ _Mister_ Bashir,” she says, the insult unmistakable. “I’ve read your file.”

When accompanied by a smile, that comment is usually a precursor to something very complimentary. Along the lines of, _I’ve read your file, and I’m very impressed. A Carrington nomination, at your age!_

This woman is not smiling.

“Then you have me at a disadvantage. We haven’t been properly introduced.”

“I’m Dr. Pulaski. Take a seat.”

Julian does so with trepidation. He does, in fact, know of Dr. Katherine Pulaski. He knows that she dislikes transporters, doesn’t trust androids, and has a strong suspicion of doctors who are overly reliant on modern technology.

Definitely not a fan of genetic engineering.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he says, trying to make it sound sincere. “I’ve always been impressed by your linear models of viral propagation. And your work as CMO of the Enterprise.”

“Thank you.” Pulaski’s mouth is a thin line. “You spent some time aboard the Enterprise as well, I believe.”

The message is clear: _We are here to talk about_ _you_.

“Yes. The Daystrom Institute was very interested in my report on Lieutenant Commander Data’s dream program.” Julian is trying to emphasize his usefulness to Starfleet, his productivity, his willingness to collaborate- the things that make him not one of _those_ augments.

“I see.” She leans back in the chair and stretches out the pause, letting him sweat. “I read your report on neuromuscular adaptations with Ensign Pazlar.”

Julian tries to match her tone. Distant, professional, clinical.

“Although the patient decided to discontinue treatment, I believe Nathaniel Teros’s theory is sound and the adjustment could have been made permanent.”

“Hm. Your work with Miss Douglas was also impressive.”

Julian realizes immediately what these two cases really have in common, but pretends not to.

“It is my hope that the work is able to be continued, and more individuals at the Institute can be enabled to lead happy, productive lives.” _And not be locked up because of outdated stereotypes and prejudices_ , he does not say, because he has been arguing it with admirals and scientists and politicians, and has so far made no headway at all.

Pulaski does not respond to this comment. Instead, she takes the opportunity to go for the jugular.

“I hope, Mister Bashir, that you don’t need me to tell you that your behavior has been unethical and appalling.”

Julian swallows.

“I’m sorry?”

“Your romantic involvement with your patients is a severe violation of our professional code of ethics.”

“Both patients were reassigned to a new primary care physician,” he points out. Pulaski raises an eyebrow.

“That is a manufactured technicality, and I don’t care for it.”

Julian thinks miserably that she is, unfortunately, correct. It is a very small loophole that he tried to jump through, and his ongoing involvement as a researcher in both cases made the defense especially flimsy.

“Do you know how many people would like to see you kicked out of Starfleet because of your genetic background?” Pulaski asks sharply.

“Yes.” Julian’s voice is quiet.

“You’ve gone and handed them an excuse to take away your medical license. You should be deeply ashamed of yourself, Mister Bashir.”

This is it, then. His father’s imprisonment only delayed the inevitable.

Where can he go? Nowhere in the Federation. Down to Bajor, maybe; Kira could put in a good word for him somewhere.

Pulaski is speaking again. He forces himself to listen.

“You are the only person in the whole Alpha Quadrant who is going to benefit from the Dominion,” she says, having clearly never met a Ferengi. “You’re lucky that you’re considered essential to the war effort. But let me make one thing perfectly clear.” She picks up Sisko’s baseball, holding it at eye level. Julian stares. “Three strikes, Mister Bashir, and you’re out.”

Does that mean… he’s still in the game?

“I won’t let you down,” he promises. She looks skeptical.

“Starfleet Medical will be keeping an eye on you. You get involved with another patient, and you won’t be able to practice medicine anywhere in the galaxy. Understood?”

“Y-yes, sir. Ma’am. Commander,” Julian stammers, feeling a surge of unexpected gratefulness.

Pulaski’s face might almost be a smile.

“Doctor is fine, thank you,” she says.

Julian nods vigorously.

Deep Space 9 is all he has, and he is awash in relief that he doesn’t have to lose it yet.


End file.
